The Roots and Ursula Rucker - The Unlocking

Hello?
Yo, who this?
Yo, this-
Yo, what up, man?
Yo, what's up, dude? Who this?
This is the Black Thought
Oh, what's up, G?
What's good? Yo
What?
We down at the studio, yo
Word?
And we got a jawn
Yo, she live?
Yeah, she vibe
What's up wit' her?
Jawn, I used to talk to, some jawn I used to knock off
Word, how she be swingin'?
She swingin' like that you know
Oh, word?
I called a couple other heads and shit, you know
Ah, who else, who else wit' it?
(Haha)
I mean, she wit' it like that?
Yeah, you know
Ain't no bullshit?
You get the whole Reservoir Dogs squad and shit, it gon' be AD
Oh, aight, word
Come on down, it's on AD
Ayo it, it's, it's just her?
Yeah, it's just her
Oh damn, what's up with some more jawns?
It's just her and some weed, you know what I'm sayin'? Fuck some more jawns
Fuck it, aight bet, you know what's up, for real for real
Yeah, so come through
Aight, what time, yo?
Um, like now?
Yeah, come through now
Peace
Peace

I the voyeur, peer, as she begins her, ritual
Paying sexual ties for few and untrue
Words of admiration, translation
Sucker ass, lines, of trash
Spewing from First One's unskilled lips
That beg for pussy tricks that make his dick go quickly limp
She pimps her innocence as Second One demands entrance
Through the back door
"Bend over bitch, you know this is what you were born for
To dig those soft and lotioned knees into the floor
And take it in, that sweetly spread ass like a real pro whore"
Her subsequent screams seemed to praise
Sent messages of pleasure and pain to his fuck tainted brain
But her screams masked laughs at his dumb ass
As he quicker comes, then Third and Fourth One just as dumb
Invite themselves to join in
Third One wants to hit the skins old-fashioned style
While Fourth One says
"Don't she got some DSL's, make a nigga joint just swell
To think? I want to sink my inches, into that bitch's
Berry-framed mouth"
So one goes North, the other South
To sanctified places where in-house spirits
Will later wash away all traces, of their ill-spoken words
And complacent faces
And then, like their Minutemen, predecessors
Lude, aggrandized sexual endeavors, end up rough
'Cause neither one of them could keep that weak shit up
Corrupt, Fifth One steps to her
Hip-hop clothes just to, think he gonna impress her
"Hey Slim, I heard you was a spinna, sit on up
Top this thing, black dick, and work it like a winner"
With the quickness he got his pseudo-thickness all up in her
But suddenly he, stops mid thrust

Seems she nameless to 'cause, got his stuff in a death cunt clutch
He fast falls from the force of her tight pussy punch
Just like the rest of that sorry ass bunch
Now here comes Six ready to add his inactive shit to the mix
Talkin' smack at that
Saying, "Girl, I'ma wax that ass, and stick that slit so hard
You gonna be calling me God"
So he proceeds to poke and prod
With clumsy finger and wack-sex slinger
"Condoms make me last longer," wrong, 'cause her
Motions of snatch, however detached from the situation
Cause his pre, pre, pre-ejaculation
It seems she just wastin'
Good pussy and time on dudes like Number Seven
Who ain't learned their lesson
He wants to enter the flesh divine
By dropping a kind of semi-sweet line
"Your honey hole so fine and mile deep I'm gonna leap
Into you like an ocean do you right and make your head spin"
So he jumped in and then, he drowned
Got lost and found in her Tart Canal
Slave to the waves, made him cum for days
Eighth and Last One turn arise
Plies her with familiar lies
Even more familiar still, 'cause
Him she used to love
But he never could quite see above, her mound
A pound of flesh is all she was, no name, no face, or even voice
So poised, she rises, Phoenix from the flame
Finally bored with their feeble fuck games
She smooth reaches behind her and takes straight aim
At eight shriveled up cocks with a fully loaded Glock
Parts lips, not expressly made for milking dicks
And then, she speaks

"Your shrieks of horror bring me bliss, I must admit
The thought that I could shred your tips with eight quick flips
Excites me, see y'all fuck with the pussy
But I fuck with your minds
Lack of soul and respect is the crime
This, was a set up, now tell me what, what's my name?"

Who are you?
Eh, brother, damn you!
Eh, your Kung-fu is pretty good
Eh, all, I wanted was some rice cakes

Written by:
Ursula Desire Rucker, Ahmir K. Thompson

Publisher:
Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group

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